Heart of Dixon
by Elijahismorningwood
Summary: Walking Dead AU where Merle and Daryl live together in a trailer park in Cynthiana, Kentucky, where Rick Grimes is a police officer who has his fair share of dealing with the Dixon brothers. But this story focuses on the idea that the Peletier family is planning on moving into a trailer next to Daryl's.
1. Chapter 1

Daryl couldn't contain his excitement.

Despite telling his brother otherwise, Daryl had been waiting for this day with a growing nervous anticipation. Hell when Merle called him giddy he hadn't been that far off. The Peletier family was moving in tomorrow. Into the park where he and his brother lived, for the time being. They had actually bought one of Daryl's trailers, an above standard one with two beds and a nice kitchenette, right across from his and Merle's. They seemed like a good family to be neighbors with, though Daryl isn't a fool; he saw the signs of abuse on Mrs. Peletier, he knows he'll have to deal with her husband soon enough. The only problem was trying to resist the urge to resort to violence, he couldn't afford to get arrested, or god forbid bail out Merle again. This had to be a peaceful deliberation, he might even have to stage an intervention with the rest of the 'neighborhood'.

As a child of abuse he felt a sense of responsibility for those trapped in its spiral. He would vehemently defend anyone who he saw was being hurt. Merle had taught him to be a survivor, a man of iron will and a cold heart, to watch out for his and his alone. He had let Merle raise him to believe that family was the most important, and while Daryl recognized hat idea as flawed he did love his brother deeply. He just couldn't let Merle know he felt such a strong sense of protectiveness over the Peletier woman and her daughter. When he met the family a summer prior, as the family came by the park to look into his trailers, he took an immediate, and albeit confusing, liking to Carol. She was a soft spoken woman, long beautiful silver hair despite her age, and gentle doe eyes. Daryl loved listening to her talk, she was slow to come out of her shell, the first time they talked she wouldn't even look him in the eye. He had noticed the bruising around her wrists the afternoon before the family left, but she staunchly told him it was an accident, 'she had fallen'. Which Merle had laughed at, "Sounds like yer woman burned his dinner". Daryl had known what the marks were from the beginning, and Merle had confirmed his suspicion when he met the daughter.

Her daughter was young and curious, freckled and shy. Daryl had forbade Merle from speaking to them, as his older brother had a notorious way of letting his temper take control. To put it lightly Merle had the uncanny ability to insult everyone. The daughter, Sophia, had happened upon Merle while exploring the park one day and much to Daryl's chagrin, the two became thick as thieves. At first Carol was reluctant to let Sophia out of her sight, she was undoubtedly afraid of Merle and his smarmy grins, but Merle was deemed a worthy babysitter when Daryl vouched for him. Merle watched Sophia the whole week the Peletier's were there; they would go hiking and to the playground and he would buy her ice cream as often as he had the money to. Sophia had shown Merle how to paint nails and braid hair and he taught her how to defend herself and spot wild animal tracks. They even had the same favorite sweet, black licorice used as straws in cherry cokes. Daryl still remembers the evenings fondly, he would sit out back with Carol sharing anecdotes about where they grew up, watching the Kentucky sun fall over Cynthiana, as Merle and Sophia would catch lightning bugs. He still pokes fun over Merle's sheepish offer to give Sophia one of the bikes they had in storage. The bikes of course didn't exist, but try to tell Merle he can't do something, especially for that sweet child.

Despite everything, Merle had a soft spot for kids, he always saw himself as a big brother to them, and wanted to protect them, he felt he had an obligation to make some kid's life better after he botched being a big brother to Daryl when they were younger. He knew he was a shit big brother, he left Daryl in the hands of their alcoholic father when he was a little kid and they both had the scars to prove what their dad was capable of. He knew Daryl didn't blame him for anything, but Merle had, for the longest time felt ashamed at how deplorable he was. He knew he was too far into drugs, selling speed was one thing, but taking it was a whole different thing. If he couldn't make up for Daryl's lost childhood he would try to give some other child one. And Sophia was no exception, Merle probably felt a stronger desire to protect her because of the abusive household she was growing up in. If he knew anything he knew that if a child was raised in that environment, they become products of that influence; they either grow up to be violent and disillusioned about their own self worth, or isolated and dissatisfied with life. Painful scenarios and horrible lives either way.

Luckily enough for Sophia, she showed no signs of being abused herself, her mother was taking the brunt of it, but both Dixon brothers knew it was only a matter of time.

Daryl hadn't actually met Ed Peletier, neither brother had, though they both knew what he was doing to his wife and had pretty good ideas what kind of man he was. Ed had sent Carol to negotiate the price and move in day while he spent all week at the local pub, drinking and gamboling, or that's what Merle told him. While Merle had promised not to interact with the man he couldn't just stand by while Sophia's father wandered around his town.

Both brothers had been mentally preparing for their new neighbors; Daryl had looked up ways to confront abusers (of course without telling Merle). And Merle had bought a road bike for Sophia, one with detachable training wheels (and like his brother, Merle hadn't told Daryl about this).

For months after the family left Daryl had exchanged letters with Carol, usually under the guise of sending reports if the trailers care, but he wanted to be more acquainted with her before they became neighbors. He could be cold and unwelcoming even to those he cared about, and he wanted her to understand this about him, to spare her feelings.

Every few days there'd be a new one; a long painfully handwritten letter for Daryl, telling him about the family's everyday life. And a drawing from Sophia for Merle. Daryl hardly understood it but that family had changed him and his brother in the short span of a week. He felt himself wanting to reach out so to know her better, know her favorite books and movies and what the sunset made her think about. It took her two months to open up about Ed, how he was to her and Sophia. Daryl was furious as he read her letter, she was defending him, talking about he had been so charming when they first started dating and that it was the stress of domestic life that corrupted him. She didn't say exactly that she found fault with herself but it was implied by the apologetic tone she adopted when she told Daryl about her husband's temper. It wasn't fair, and while he knew it would do no good he felt such a rage, at Carol and at Ed. How could she be so blind as to ignore and defend the man who hit her in front of her child? Din't she care about Sophia growing up to be independent and fearless? Did Carol want her daughter to grow up being afraid of disappointing men? And what kind of man took his anger out on another person, especially the woman who had agreed to live her life with him and go through the pain of childbirth for him? It was sick. And while he was disappointed in Carol's dependence on Ed, he understood it and did not blame her. He just wanted to be help her, to be her friend, for her to trust him. To protect each other. He wasn't sure if he was feeling a sexual or romantic or purely platonic desire to be near her, but he could not bear to be far from her. He would do anything to be her shield. He began subconsciously planning his days around the mailman's schedule. Though he adamantly refused this accusation from Merle.

Then one day the letters stopped coming. At first Daryl just assumed there was a storm that was preventing him from getting it, but as days turned to weeks without a word from her he feared the worst. Maybe Ed had found out that she had told him about the abuse, and was punishing her. Daryl felt sick to his stomach picturing Ed's fat sweaty palms touching her, hitting her and making her cry. That fury fueled his hunt, he had stopped going out and practicing ever since he started corresponding with Carol, he didn't want to miss the mailman and her letters. But without her to occupy his life so strongly he reverted back to old ways, disappearing into the woods for days at a time and getting high with Merle out of desperation.

As worried as he was though, his pride wouldn't let him reach out and inquire about what he had done. Instead he would write to her formally, addressed to the whole family, about the logistics of their new home. They had already paid three months rent in advance, but he had to come up with some, any excuse to try and talk to her. To try and hear from her. It was infuriating how this woman could leave him so devastated, it made him vulnerable. Weak.

The day the Peletier's were scheduled to move in came and went.

Daryl stayed inside his trailer all day, pretending to read or watch tv but his focus was on any movement outside. Next door to his right, Merle was lounging on a plastic pool chair in his "front yard", the perfect image of redneck hick with his wife beater, aviators, cigarettes, and brown bag beer. But he sat with his feet on a large and long brown box (the bike he had wrapped up special but still had to make it look nonchalant). Both brothers waited and waited, but aside from the other people who lived in the park, no one came. It would have unsettled atone else but to the Dixon brothers it just pissed them off; neither were accustomed to being made to wait.

Frustrated at their disappointment both Dixons retired to Daryl's trailer to relax, unwind, and vent. They got drank long into the night, and as tired as he was, Daryl couldn't seem to find it in him to sleep. He was wrought with worry. What is Carol was hurt somewhere, what if this was a test to see if he did care for her? There were too many "What if"'s for him to bear. Paranoia was upsetting his stomach so he detached himself from the couch where Merle was nursing a beer and stumbled over the the kitchenette sink. The water was cold and stung his eyes, sensitive and red from Merle's pot. Daryl had been to anxious about the 'what if's to smoke with his brother, but Merle had insisted on keeping the windows and door closed when he smoke, secretly Merle still hoped for the family to arrive and didn't want Sophia exposed to the harsh smell. Essentially they hot boxed Daryl's trailer. But Daryl's anxiety and the grass didn't mesh well and he was starting to feel the pot affect his body, the beers certainty didn't help either. He was standing hunched over the sink when he thought he saw a shadow cross over to the trailer that would have been Carol's. It hurt his heart to imagine Carol living so close, he would see her everyday. Or he would have. He tried to imagine the shadow would have been Carol, coming home late from a movie or something, but as soon as his eyes adjusted to the dark he lost it. Just a figment of his uneasy stoner mind.

No there was something definitely out there. This time he was sure of it! A light flickered behind one of the windows, the blinds drawn to protect the furniture inside from fading. But there was definitely something, someone more likely, in there.

"Fuck that," All the concern was gone in a flash, replaced by a quick white hot rage. Someone was inside Carol's house.

"Fuck that!" He said again, Daryl's knuckles white as he gripped the sink's edge.

"Mmh? The fuck you sayin'?" Merle cocked his head at his little brother, his elbow bent over his chest, a cold one numbing his fingers, his other arm draped over the arm of the couch. He was comfortable, more at ease on Daryl's loveseat than in his own bed. But his brother wasn't responding, just looking outside, with that glare of his no doubt. Merle was going to ask again what the fuck was buggin his brother, when Daryl pushed off the sink counter and clumsily stomped towards the door, only to trip over Merle's boots and fumble with the lock.

"Ey? Daryl whatcha doin'?" He would have gotten up to see for himself what had riled his brother up so much, but his body was feeling heavy, a winning combination of too much pot and not enough beer.

Daryl ignored his brother's protests as he staggered across the pathway to Carol's trailer. Their doors matched up perfectly it was only approximately 4 yards from his front door to hers. But it seemed so much farther as he teetered up to the door, his stomach doing summersaults.

"Hey! I saw ya! Whatcha doin' in there? Come on–hic–out," He had meant to bang on the door but after one aggressive knock he had to catch his breath, fuck he wasn't feeling too hot. It would be a shit show if it came down to a fight.

But he heard light, reluctant footsteps, whoever it was didn't want any more trouble than he did it seemed.

His head against the cold metal of the door, he half fell as it was yanked open. He squinted his eyes up at the light from inside, annoyed that this person had surprised him. He couldn't have been more surprised.

She was staring at him, her face half hidden by the door, her hair was the same silver grey but where it had been long and wavy months prior, it was now short and stocky. Even her eyes were different, beautiful and big and blue but the gentleness was gone from them. They looked colder than before, some of the light gone from behind them. And she was so thin, her cheeks were taunt and prominent, her eyes sunken, she looked so haggard and emancipated it made Daryl sick. Or something did. Something about all the booze and pot and her being there made him sick. Physically.

He tried to straighten up, and smile at her but he was choking back heaves. With a cringe and a slanted smile he looked up at her, and managed, "Hiya Carol,", before throwing up all over her shoes and new house's front door.


	2. Chapter 2

_When did I eat carrots?_ Daryl's shirt was caked down the front with pale green puke. What looked like carrots and corn decorated the front of his tank. If Merle was sober he'd never hear the end of it but luckily by the time Carol had nursed him better and brought him home, Merle was fast asleep. _More like passed the fuck out on his couch,_ but Daryl didn't care. Merle was always welcome in his house, it never really felt like home without his greasy, hick brother. They were both assholes, but hey everyone needs someone. And even now, slightly tipsy and still coming down, Daryl counted himself lucky; he might one day be able to count Carol as one of his family.

Though it was an unnecessarily unsavory introduction to the neighborhood.

After Carol's initial shock, however, she'd surprised him.

Hunched over her front stoop, ashamed and abashed, Daryl thought she'd be disgusted by him. With his eyes shut tight and his stomach still turning he expected the worst. But she just started laughing, a deep body laugh that came from her gut. It sounded like Carol all right. Her big bellied laugh that opposed her petite build and mousy frame. He looked up at her, bewildered and frantically wiping his mouth, afraid to meet her new cold and unwelcoming eyes. He was afraid that this new Carol, this strange impostor, could be poking fun at his humiliation.

Only this Carol was red faced and teary eyed, cackling with glee–this was the the Carol he remembered. The woman who found the good in all creation and laughed with everything she had, and boy she was not holding back.

He was starting to get angry when she sagged against the door frame and held her gut.

"Oh Daryl you sure do have a dramatic flare, dontcha," Her words carried that joyful singsong quality he often found himself missing. Even bent over her feet, slimy with semi digested food, Daryl wouldn't trade that moment for anything.

He smiled awkwardly, trying to straighten up, but while the alcohol was half out of his system, the absence of food was affecting his high. His head felt light and foggy while his body wavered and slowed, he was a winning mixture of sluggishly high and faint drunk. Falling on the doorframe opposite Carol, he winced as his shoes slipped in his puke.

"Fuck, I'm sorry Carol, this ain't how I wanted to introduce ya to yer house," He hoped she assumed the red on his face was a flush from the booze, instead of the unpleasant schoolboy blush.

"Come on in you, we better clean you up," The laugh in her voice got quiet and Daryl could feel her hand on his shoulder. It was a slight and tentative touch but it made him feel better, made him feel less anxious, more at peace.

"You owe me a clean porch, Dixon," There was that laugh again, this was going to be a long night, he had really missed her. He didn't know if his heart could take it.

–

Carol was worried; she'd been dreading this day, as much as the Dixons had been looking forward to it.

How could she tell them the truth? How could she lie to them though?

It was an impossible decision, one in which she feared would have terrible repercussions. She wanted this place to be her new life, she wanted so badly to be able to start anew here.

–

She and Ed had been looking for a spot to relocate for an entire summer.

It started towards the end of June, Ed of course was at the root of the problem.

He had been fired from his job; disorderly conduct with a fellow employee who turned out to be his superior in some way. He had a two weeks notice and was advised to find another place to write his recommendation.

That had been a stressful weekend. He had been feeling bullied and hurt in an environment where he had no power, so as retaliation, he went back to an environment where he had the most power, where he felt like an alpha dog. He went home, belligerent and furious, angry at those bottom feeders who hadn't acknowledged his skill and prowess, who had hurt him, made him feel effeminate. He drank all the liquor they had in their house and spent Sophia's lunch money on whiskey and scotch. The first night hadn't been too horrible, he was too drunk to hurt Carol or their daughter, just made inappropriate comments about the people at work, homophobic and racist slurs with some colorful language. Carol only had to intervene when he started talking about that "uppity cunt in charge", and how she "had it coming". She didn't want Sophia thinking this was an appropriate way to talk about women, or treat them. Carol hated that hypocritical side of herself; she didn't want her daughter seeing or hearing any abuse directed towards a woman, but she endured her husband's fists in scared silence. She wanted to be a role model for Sophia, since she so obviously lacked a strong father figure in her life, Ed had hardly ever shown Sophia attention. Often opting to leave their house and stay at a friend's when Sophia was young and fussy at night. That weekend, after Ed lost his job, Carol sent Sophia away because of Ed's fussiness.

The first night, hadn't been great, but it was nothing compared to the night after.

Ed with a hangover was even more sullen than the night before, he refused to accept that it was his fault and instead insisted that they give him his job back, with a raise. Of course that was not negotiable, he needed to be punished. He just couldn't handle it.

He got off the phone with his boss, his words slurred from anger, his eyes bloodshot and beady. His fury knew no bounds that night. He cried and drank and vomited and threw plates, he even picked up a lamp and chucked it across the room, only for it to crash into the wall next to Carol's head. Funny thing was she felt the air and the whoosh by her ear, but she was slightly disappointed when it didn't hit her and hurt her. She wanted any excuse to just pass out; be oblivious to the world. She knew she'd get no sleep that night. If Ed couldn't sleep, he'd make damn sure she couldn't either. He order her around, make her drive out and bring him back food only for him to throw it away and demand her to cook for him. Nothing satisfied him. Not even her. He hit her, groped her, and had his way with her. She was numb to it, to his incessant need to be in control, to have the upper hand in every situation. She had become so complacent that she didn't even move or say anything when he was on top of her, his sweaty flabby body exerting itself in trying to pleasure him. She didn't care that he hit her either, she wore those as badges of honor. Nothing he could do would surprise her, she knew from experience how deep his levels of insecurity ran. He was a small man, a weasel.

But that weekend was especially heinous, he was extremely awful. He called her names and slapped her, pulled her hair and ripped her clothes. The climax of his drunken rage was when he accused her of being too prideful, that if he had to suffer ugliness and misery that she would have to too. Ed had made her sit still, perched on their 'master bedroom' toilet as he crudely cut off her beautiful hair. Silver locks, five or six inches long fell down her back in waves, it was hideous. Harsh and appalling. He left her there, mutely mourning her hair. Her head exposed in unseemly clumps, bald patches and bare spots littering her scalp.

When she'd collected Sophia from a friend's the next day she'd put on a brave face and said it was a new look she was trying out. No one had the guts to tell her–to her face–that it looked like someone had taken dull scissors to her hair.

Usually when Ed laid his hands on her cruelly, he would take precautions to make amends for it; paying for expensive dinners, or buying her flowers, or taking the family out to the movies. Swearing undying love and making tearful apologizes, recognizing his own character flaws. But not this time.

After he had lost his job, Ed had lost the motivation to save face to his wife and child. He could never make them respect him if he couldn't make some low level paper pusher respect him, so what was the point. He wouldn't admit it was abuse, but he wasn't going to pretend like it was anything else. That was when the Peletier mother and father came to the consensus that maybe a new town would give them the new and better life that they so desperately wanted. Maybe a move could save their marriage and their family. It was a last act of a dying relationship. One in which both parties knew how futile the move was, but were both adamant not to be the one that admitted the dead marriage.

It had taken them weeks to narrow down their search to a town, and a style of living. With the family barely living off of Ed's unemployment checks and their savings–and sadly Sophia's college fund–they needed something cheap and sustainable until a new job could be accuired. Ed was the one that came up with the idea of a trailer park, it had no respect attached to it, but there was a certain security in living in a trailer park. It was a community and there was a notorious fierceness of trailer park families. One in particular caught Ed and Carol's eye. A small park twenty minutes walking from downtown Cynthiana, Kentucky. The town had a population of six-thousand four-hundred and two, with a well renown sheriff's department and low crime rate. The park itself had only roughly seventeen people living in it with twelve trailers, two unoccupied. A family owned the trailer that Carol and Ed had agreed on, two brothers that lived in separate trailers one right next to the other. She hadn't been able to find anything negative about the youngest brother–a certain Daryl Dixon–who was a respected and liked member of society there. The older Dixon was however a little more rough, some counts of drug possession and distribution, but he had served his time and had no shots on his record for a few years. He had been seeing a probation officer a few times each month for around eighteen months.

Ed was the one that wanted to live there. He was the one that booked their hotel and put the gas in the tank for the drive down. He was the one that told Carol to go without him to meet them, he was the one that thought "those rednecks might lower the price to a woman and her kid". He was the one that was right about that.

He was also the one that forbade Carol from communicating with the youngest Dixon after they left. He had had a funny feeling after their trip to Kentucky, of course he hadn't been there to actually meet the Dixons, but he didn't like how carefully Carol had described Daryl Dixon. He figured it wasn't romantic, and not sexual, he knew she was too afraid of his wrath to commit adultery. He hadn't liked it but didn't know why.

He really hadn't liked it when he found out the two had been exchanging letters for months after they left, from their visit in late July to early November. Ed had, of course, read the letters, and finding nothing dangerous or scandalous in them, had no real reason to be upset aside from the fact that Carol had deliberately disobeyed him. It was astonishing, she had never said no to him before or acted out, or disobeyed. He was feeling exposed, felt a threat to his power.

He knew that hitting her wouldn't be enough this time. He would have to hurt her where she least expected it. He wanted this to leave a lasting impression on her mind.

He had been the one to drive away on night in November, with Sophia, drunk off greed and power. And drunk in general.

He had been the one to cause the accident, he was so excited to hurt Carol, that he hadn't seen the other car until he was halfway through the intersection and completely T-boned by them.

Ed's plan had been to whisk Sophia away for the weekend, a fun little father daughter trip to her, but a lesson to her mother. He had left a note for her that warned, "If you ever disobey me, you'll never see either of us again,".

Much to Carol's dismay and utter heartbreak, she would see her husband alive and well for a few more times. But she'd never see her daughter again.

Ed had been T-boned on the passenger side. The passenger door collapsing and crushing her daughter, ending her life in a long and painful process. Carol wasn't even allowed the knowledge of knowing her daughter died peacefully. Eye witnesses reported hearing a young girl crying out for her mother and howling in agony before and after paramedics arrived.

Ed had been the one to ruin her life. Ed had been the one to end Sophia's. But he couldn't touch her now, he didn't know where she was. And Carol was going to be damned if she let him hurt her ever again. She had had skin of porcelain. But she had grown skin of ivory. All that was left was for her to steel her heart from harm. She was not the woman she had been months ago. If Ed Peletier came in her door, she knew she'd have the courage to finally tell him, "Go to hell,".


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Daryl noticed was the lack of furnishing.

There was nothing in Carol's trailer. It was stark and clean and void of any touch of life. Daryl would have guessed that Carol was the kind of person that liked to decorate, give every place she lived in a special touch. He could just imagine her flipping the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog, trying to match the curtains to the couch and the pillows to the duvet. He smiled thinking about her finding little sentimental pictures and knick knacks to put on mantel places and bookshelves. He would have bet his bottom dollar that she had a good eye for interior decorating, and was subtle and perfect in everything from the wallpaper to the paintings.

So it was strange for him to see nothing. No warmth whatsoever.

He tried looking around, his head slumped against his hands, propped up on the kitchen island, but there was scant amount of anything in sight. There was a dirty coffee mug and a french press across the island from him. _Fancy,_ he thought dryly. Daryl wasn't much of a coffee drinker, he preferred the light touch of tea, but a french press was impressive compared to Merle's much loved keurig.

Some canned soup and an open box of Cheerios sat casually discarded next to the sink. A peach and a plum and two bananas, shared the counter space too. She didn't even have a lot of food, mostly breakfast items. There was a small beige purse and biking backpack on the couch near him but aside from that, no one would have been able to tell that she was moving in.

It was barren, but at least she was here, he and Merle would take Carol and Sophia shopping later. Chyntiana didn't have much in terms of chain stores, there was a Walmart and a Cost Plus and an old Target. They even had a small shopping center but it was basically just an AMC and a food court.

A Toys'R'Us had recently opened downtown, and Merle already had a membership, and was hoarding all the coupons. He had kept both the Barbie and Batman twenty percent off coupons, he didn't care if Sophia played with dolls or race cars, he just wanted the girl to be happy in her new home. Daryl wasn't even supposed to know that Merle had a membership, but sometimes his brother's coupons arrived at his trailer instead. Daryl thought it was sweet, so he spared his brother's feelings and pretended not to know.

 _Ugh, Sophia,_ that reminded him. Daryl hoped against all odds that the little scamp wouldn't have to see him like this. He probably looked like a crazy stoner. He wanted to get better before Sophia showed up. But by the way his body was acting up, he would probably have to sleep it off first.

His eyes were blurry and burned, dry and aggravated. There was a pounding in his head only exaggerated by the smell of his rotten breath, and the slick of his shirt as his vomit dried. He must have looked how he felt, but Carol tended to him with extreme care. Cooling his brow and pushing a water bottle towards him. A mother that obviously was adept at cleaning up other people's messes.

It made Daryl miss having a mother, but more importantly it made Daryl wish for a way to reverse the clocks. If he would have only just waited a few more hours! Then he could have brought over the left overs he and Merle had. He knew they'd appreciate an easy meal while moving in.

He knew how hard it was to move into a new place, usually the first night was the hardest. When your stuff is still catching up to you and you're unfamiliar with the local restaurants.

He and Merle had often moved, jumped from place to place. When they were younger, Daryl would just follow his brother from fight to fight, from high to high. He wasn't proud of that time in his life, but now things were better. Especially for Merle, he hadn't been in trouble for a while, and his PO had promised to get back to them about employment opportunities for his big brother.

And with new neighbors and new friends, things could only go uphill from here.

As Daryl's head got heavier, and is eyelids drooped, he thought about all the things they could do now with the Peletier's moved in. They could plan a graduation party for Sophia, if he recalled correctly she had been finishing the sixth grade this year. Middle school was a big step up,he was sure she'd be anxious.

He stretched out is arm and put his head down, excited to show the Peletier family a good time this summer. There was the mall, and the movie theatre, and the swimming pool, they'd have so much fu–

–

 _He must have dozed off,_ Carol turned to face her old friend, her new neighbor. He was a sight for sore eyes, but he looked pretty darn pitiful right now; one hand sprawled across her kitchen island, his head nestled in the crook of his elbow, a line of drool falling from his mouth. It was adorable, this big ole guy, passed out on her counter, snoring softly.

She leaned against the sink and sipped her coffee, the mug was chipped and the coffee itself was lukewarm, but hey she couldn't ask for more.

Carol knew he would wake up eventually and ask about her. Why had she stopped talking so abruptly? Did he do soothing wrong? Where were Ed and Sophia? Maybe even what happened to her hair. She didn't want them to pity her. She was strong now. Stronger than she ever knew she could be. She also felt a residual guilt over what had happened that November. It was late May, and the divorce settlement was done, she had her restraining order in place, and she felt like she could move on. But something was holding her back.

If she hadn't insisted on replying to Daryl against Ed's wishes, he would ever have gotten in the car that night with Sophia. She liked to imagine that if he had never found out, he would have been the one to die that night in crash. That he wouldn't have felt it necessary to pull that stunt.

But she couldn't solely blame herself. Of course Ed had been the one under the influence and driving, had been the one to run that red light, had been the one to drag Sophia out of bed that night and strap her into the front seat. Ed had her blood on his hands. But Carol had her blood on her conscience. She should have listened. She should have been a dutiful wife. Dedicated. She shouldn't have been talking to Daryl.

And Daryl.

He didn't even know what had happened, and yet she felt a confusing mixture of worry and disdain. No doubt that if he knew the truth he would blame himself, she knew he was that kind of person. He would take it personally and would feel responsible even though he had been a third party. He would wallow in self loathing.

And yet, a part of Carol wanted him to hate himself. She couldn't bring herself to hate him and yet he had been a part of this too. He had indirectly killed her baby.

Her baby girl. Her sunshine. Her best friend.

She would never see Sophia fall in love. Sophia would never laugh again, or see a sunrise. She would never get married or feel heartbreak, or the wind through her hair. Carol would never give her daughter the talk, or teach her how to shave her legs. She would never teach Sophia how to put on makeup or how to use tampons. She had lost her baby girl, and would never be able to hold her again. She would never hear her cry, "Mommy!" or hear her say, "I love you" again. Knowing that she was alive when her daughter wasn't killed Carol. Made her wish she were dead.

That night in the hospital had been a nightmare. Carol had been called when Ed had gained consciousness, and it was already too late.

By the time Carol got to the ICE, they were wheeling her only child out, a blanket over her head.

Her baby had fought so hard to live, had cried so hard and so loud for her mommy to help her. For anyone to. But with multiple skull fractures and internal bleeding from a punctured lung, there wasn't much anyone could do. At first there had been some hope, but then her kidneys shut down, and the doctors found hemorrhaging in her brain. She was killing herself the more she breathed and pumped oxygen into her skull cavity. Essentially, Sophia was drowning in her own blood. It was only a matter of time. And Carol wasn't even there to say goodbye. She could only imagine how scared Sophia had been. How hurt, that she'd have to die alone. No one she loved would even be there to help her pass on.

What really took the cake though, was the identification of the body.

The police had to be sure that it was really Sophia that had died.

And no matter how much Carol begged God for it to be a mistake, for it to be someone else's child, when they lifted the cover from the body she saw Sophia. Even purple and bloodied, with gashes on her face and a dent in her skull, that was Sophia lying there on that cold metal table. That was Sophia with the tag on her foot. Or something that looked like her daughter. That thing wasn't Sophia. Her daughter was gone. And there was nothing anybody could do about it.

Carol had to live with the fact that she would never really know her daughter again.

Carol had had Sophia cremated, her ashes, her essence, put into an ornate ebony box, with mother of pearl inlining. Her name spelled out for all the world to see. Her beautiful daughter and all her life complied in one small box. She had gone all out with the urn, dumping Sophia's college trust into it. She wouldn't it anymore. What was the point in pretending.

Carol wasn't sure she could endure explaining to another person that she had outlived her child.

One of the worst feelings in the world; knowing that your child's life has been snuffed out before they could really experience it. Sophia would never truly experience life. She would never grow old or have a family of her own. She would never live as long as Carol.

A part of her died that day.

A part of Carol's heart had been buried in that box among Sophia's ashes. She would never forget her daughter's face, or her laugh, or her cry. Carol still had one of Sophia's stuffed animals with her, a raggedy old teddy bear with two different buttons as eyes. It was Sophia's first and favorite doll. Carol had bought it at the hospital gift shop where Sophia was born. It still smelled like Sophia. She could still see the bald spots on the bear where Sophia had rubbed away the fur from holding it too tight.

Her daughter being dead was like a tumor under Carol's ribs, it hurt to breath and everyday she had to live in the same world without her daughter, it grew bigger and colder.

She could never let Daryl know. She would die before she told him, or his brother, that she had failed as a mother to protect her baby.

She could not stand to see another person look at her with the same expression of pity in their eyes. She would not stand for it.

So she stayed there, watching Daryl sleeping blissfuly, her heart feeling as cold as her coffee, and she planned. Carol planned what clothes she'd need, what groceries to get, where to look for a job. And what to tell the Dixons so that they'd never question her. So that they'd never have to know about Sophia. Ever. So she could pretend everything was normal, that her daughter was alive somewhere, that she could be happy again.


End file.
